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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043696">through the darkness, rise - scrapped</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouPF/pseuds/LouPF'>LouPF</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TDR 'verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse of Khuzdul, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cabbage Patch Hobbits, Dragons, Dragons are Neutral, Dwarf Culture &amp; Customs, F/M, Fix-It, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, im not sorry jirt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:07:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,143</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27043696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/LouPF/pseuds/LouPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(This is a collection of scrapped or removed scenes from my story 'through the darkness, rise' - this will make little sense if you don't read it beforehand.)</p><p>After the Battle of the Five Armies and Bilbo and Thorin's arranged marriage, Bilbo is certain Thorin has no real interest in him, and they're trying to keep the mountain running all throughout the winter. Meanwhile, there's still that dragon egg they're dealing with, Kili courting an elf, half of Laketown stuck with them, and more dwarrow on the way. Mahal, this'll be a ride.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien), Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TDR 'verse [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>253</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Alternate Confession Scene</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>And here we are! Please read 'through the darkness, rise' before you read this, I promise it'll be worth it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thorin and Bilbo still slept in different tents, for Propriety Sake, as Balin put it. Bilbo had almost been able to taste the capital letters. That didn’t mean they didn’t spend time together during the day, though – there were lessons, and explanations, and meetings. And in-between those, there were calm moments to themselves, shared in either Bilbo or Thorin’s tent.</p><p>Such as today, when they were both in Bilbo’s tent signing documents (Bilbo’s tent had turned into a sort of office for several of the Company). Why on Earth there was need for document signing before they could begin to restore Erebor, Bilbo had no idea – but he’d seen both Thranduil and Bard’s handwriting in the pile of paper Thorin was currently working his way through, so he supposed there might be other things in there, as well.</p><p>Bilbo, for his part, was beginning to make loose plans about potential hobbit immigration, complete with lists of needed items and such. In-between, he was working on the poem Thorin had seen glimpses of. He wanted it finished, damn it all, if he so had to bleed to see it done.</p><p>At one point, Thorin sighed and leaned back. “I think if I read another word my eyes will fall out,” he grumbled, stretching with a grunt.</p><p>Bilbo traced the curve of his chest and belly with longing eyes before he caught himself and snapped back to attention. “Oh, will they, now?”</p><p>“Yes,” said Thorin, with great certainty. He turned in the chair to face Bilbo. “How goes id-marali?”</p><p>Marali, a courting gift. Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t supposed to unveil a gift before its completion.”</p><p>“Oh, come now,” Thorin said, and his easy expression gave way for a frown. “I just wanted to make sure you’ll be ready for the – the…”</p><p>Bilbo softened. They did tend to skirt past this particular topic, for all that they should probably discuss it in depth. “The wedding?” he asked quietly.</p><p>Thorin slumped over. “Yes,” he sighed. “That.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about that,” Bilbo said. Then, when Thorin still looked uncertain, he chewed on his lip. Yes, he might be a selfish twit, but he would never forgive himself if he chained Thorin down ‘til the day of his death. “Thorin… are you sure about this?”</p><p>Raising his head, Thorin met Bilbo’s gaze, his eyes soft. “Are you sure about this?”</p><p>“Thorin.” Bilbo slid out of his chair and crossed the room, kneeling before Thorin to give him a proper serious look. “You are marrying below your class. You are the King. I am not a dwarf – I am not royalty. I’m a dragon, Thorin, and I’ve somehow convinced the Company to take in another one. People aren’t going to take that lightly, you know? This isn’t…” He swallowed, shook his head – continued to steadfast keep their gazes locked. “This isn’t going to be easy.”</p><p>“But,” Thorin croaked, “but you are my One.”</p><p>Yes, Bilbo knew that, thank you very much. He knew it meant this stubborn dwarf – and he called Thorin that a lot, but he really, really was – was dead-set on marrying Bilbo for the sole reason that Thorin might fall in love with him one day. He understood that.</p><p>Things were still… tricky.</p><p>Bilbo reached out to brush his fingers across Thorin’s cheek, right where his beard began. “And I am commonfolk, a dragon shapeshifter,” he muttered. “Are you sure about this?” When Thorin opened his mouth, Bilbo rushed to add, “all of this – the egg, raising a dragon, my draconic side, all of that – included?”</p><p>Thorin’s fingers tangled with Bilbo’s. He searched Bilbo’s gaze for a few trembling seconds. Then he whispered, “yes.”</p><p>“Then I am, too,” Bilbo said. “Okay? We’ll see this through.” He stood, smiling. “And the gift is nearly done, you worrier, I have a few days yet.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Scrapped Chapter - 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The chapter following the ending of TDR; the caravans from Ered Luin arrive, and Bilbo gets a new job.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Uncle Bilbo!”</p><p>Bilbo glanced up from his breakfast just in time to see a beaming Kili come charging down the table. “Oh, gracious,” Bilbo muttered, and shoved aside his plate just as Kili threw himself into the seat next to him. “Good morning to you, too, you rascal!”</p><p>A much calmer Fili followed in Kili’s footsteps. He yawned, then collapsed onto the bench. “What’s for breakfast?”</p><p>“Porridge,” said Thorin, who was sitting opposite of Bilbo. When both Fili and Kili groaned, he hid a smile behind his spoon.</p><p>It hadn’t been more than a week since caravans from the Iron Hills arrived, and not more than a week and a half since they’d moved dwarves and men into Erebor, but they were still careful and mindful of their rations. Bombur and a few of the Iron Hill dwarves had been set to tend to the kitchens, and it was working out just fine.</p><p>Dain, who sat a few seats further down the table, chuckled. “Hoy, now, lads, don’t be like that. It’s food!”</p><p>Bilbo privately thought it might be a good idea for the public to see the Princes grumble about the food but eat it nonetheless. The purpose of the royal family eating in public was, after all, to do what they could to prove they weren’t hoarding food.</p><p>Bilbo also privately thought to himself it was a damn good thing he didn’t eat like a hobbit, or he’d be half dead by this point.</p><p>“Where’s Tauriel?” he asked, hoping to divert the conversation before anyone could start grumbling about proper food.</p><p>Kili was instantly placated. “Sleeping in,” he chirped, reaching for a bowl. “She had a long night, last night.”</p><p>Bofur – who was not royalty by any means, but the whole Company had now been declared Allies and Friends of the Royal Family, and had thereby acquired Lord status – grimaced. “I did <em>not </em>need to know that!” he exclaimed.</p><p>Kili blinked, then flushed scarlet. “No! No, I didn’t – she – we weren’t – ” Cutting himself off with a groan, he buried his face in his hands.</p><p>Fili took pity on him. “She was out hunting,” he explained. “It’s a long way to find any game that’s worth wasting arrows on.”</p><p>Tauriel hadn’t exactly been welcomed into the family with wide open arms, but Kili had very stubbornly put a courting braid in her hair – and roped Fili into helping teach her the pattern, so she could do the same to his – and rules were rules. Thorin was not so cruel that he would cast his own nephew out for who his heart belonged to, and so Tauriel stayed.</p><p>Some mild grumbling there had been, but Bilbo put his new title to good use and whispered words of alliances and goodwill into Thorin’s ear. Thorin relayed it on to the public, and though the grumbles hadn’t <em>died</em>, they did quiet.</p><p>Dwalin came marching down the table the other way, setting himself firmly beside Thorin. “How’s the restorations going?” he asked gruffly.</p><p>“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” said Dain.</p><p>Kili snorted into his porridge.</p><p>“They’re alright,” said Thorin. “All the outer halls have been cleared, as most of the outer chambers. We’re making our way inward fast – by a fortnight, most of the mountain should be clear.”</p><p>Dwalin grunted with a nod, then descended onto his porridge.</p><p>Balin followed in his footsteps not long after, settling onto the bench beside him. “Good morning,” he greeted warmly.</p><p>“Good,” said Dain, and nodded. “At least someone here has manners.”</p><p>Everyone present shot him a dark look. Dain was really not one to talk about proper manners. Dain, knowing this well, gave a smug smile.</p><p>Shaking his head, Balin turned to Bilbo. “How goes the egg?”</p><p>Bilbo swallowed his porridge, then stated, “quite well! I checked on them this morning – the forge is treating them fine, and the life inside is moving.”</p><p>Fili sat straighter. “Will it hatch soon, then?”</p><p>“Likely not,” said Bilbo, with a light shake of his head. “It still feels too… <em>small.</em>”</p><p>“What’re you gonna name it?” Kili asked.</p><p>“What?” said Bilbo. He frowned, then lit up. “Oh! Oh, you think – no, Kili, uhm – dragons choose their own names. Some are born with them, others choose them.”</p><p>“Interesting,” said Balin, and it sounded genuine enough, with how his eyes lit up.</p><p>Bofur hummed. “So, they’re like Dark Names?”</p><p>Bilbo frowned again. “Dark Names?”</p><p>Balin gave Thorin a look dry enough to empty oceans. “Thorin,” he sighed. “Didn’t I tell you – ”</p><p>“Oh, lay off,” Bilbo said, and couldn’t help but grin. “You shouldn’t always assume the worst, Balin – he’s already told me.”</p><p>Thorin very hurriedly brought his whole bowl up to his face to hide his grin.</p><p>Balin looked a bit baffled. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, well then.”</p><p>“Hey, hold on!” Kili exclaimed, leaning onto the table with all his weight to peer up at Dwalin. “What’s that in your <em>beard</em>, Dwalin?”</p><p>Dwalin froze.</p><p>Every eye turned to him.</p><p>A courting braid sat nestled in his beard.</p><p>“Uhm,” said Dwalin.</p><p>Before the floodgates of questions had time to be opened, a voice rose above the clutter of speaking in the dining hall. “CARAVANS!” they cried, joyful and eager. “CARAVANS FROM THE BLUE MOUNTAINS!”</p><p>“Dis,” Thorin breathed.</p><p>Fili and Kili paled. “Mum,” they moaned.</p><p>All three of them jumped to their feet and raced out of the hall. “Hm,” said Bilbo, casting a glance after them just as Fili leapt over a table in his haste. “I should probably follow after them, shouldn’t I? Being married to Thorin, and all that.”</p><p>The rest of the table were hurriedly finishing up their breakfast and staggering to their feet. “Aye, probably,” said Balin, and patted Bilbo’s shoulder heartily. “But the caravans aren’t likely to be here <em>just </em>yet.”</p><p>As Bilbo began to make his way towards the door, Balin’s muffled, “and <em>we </em>have things to discuss, <em>brother</em>,” made him smile.</p><p>*</p><p>As it turned out, Balin was quite right. By the time Bilbo caught up to Thorin and the boys, they’d gathered on the battlements, huddled close to defend against the chill of winter and staring at the horizon with squinted eyes – and squint they had to, for the caravans were yet nothing but a black smudge in the distance, even to Bilbo.</p><p>“How long until they’re here, d’you reckon?” Bilbo asked, pressing in against Thorin’s side. The winds were harsh and cold.</p><p>Thorin wordlessly wrapped an arm around Bilbo’s shoulders and drew him close, fumbling with his cloak for a moment before he settled it around Bilbo. “Before midday, I would assume,” he mused. “Though first connection will be made before, if Gloin is anything to go by…”</p><p>Bilbo snorted, recalling how Gloin had wolfed down his porridge when he went down. “His family’s there, aren’t they?”</p><p>“Aye, his wife and son,” Thorin nodded. A bit quieter, he said, “those who have family will see them today.”</p><p>“Dis,” said Bilbo. “Gloin’s wife and son… who else?”</p><p>“Bombur,” said Thorin, amused. “His wife brings their whole family clan… seven pebbles, I think they have?”</p><p>“Ah, a quite respectable number,” Bilbo said, and chuckled when Thorin choked. “Not quite on the level of hobbits, but they’re getting there.”</p><p>Thorin cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, “well – !”</p><p>Deciding to bring Thorin out of his misery, Bilbo asked, “any else?”</p><p>Just as he said it, Gloin came sprinting out of the front gates. He took off over the plains. Bilbo followed him with his gaze, the chuckles of the dwarves watching with them fading into the background.</p><p>“Oin’s spouse, Yare… they wouldn’t let anyone stop them from traveling, I’m sure.” Thorin’s tone was both amused and fond; when Bilbo glanced up at him, he bore a warm smile. “Ah, Mahal, Bilbo, you should’ve heard the fuss they made when Oin agreed to come with us… they refused to go, of course, said it was ‘horse-dung, the whole lot of it’.”</p><p>Bilbo laughed, burrowing deeper into Thorin’s side as he did so. “Somehow it does not surprise me that Oin’s spouse would be like so,” he admitted.</p><p>“Rumour has it they argued at the altar,” Thorin said, and the smile was audible in his voice.</p><p>“Oin? Argue?” said Bilbo, feigning shock. “He would <em>never</em>.”</p><p>Thorin’s laugh was loud and free.</p><p>*</p><p>Dis was like a spotlight through the crowd. She had the same dark hair as Thorin and a vastly similar facial structure. In body, she was stout and proud, with broad shoulders and a wide-legged stance. Muscles rippled beneath her tunic, and her beard and hair had been braided out of her face more for necessity than anything pretty, as she barked out orders to those who still led the caravans.</p><p>And yet, it was the eyes that were the most alike. Pale blue, colder than bluebells but warmer than forget-me-nots – aquamarine in their shade, but steely in their shadow.</p><p>Her gaze swept through the crowd and landed on Fili and Kili, who’d taken tentative steps towards her. And all at once steel melted into gold and ice into fire and flame. “Fili!” she cried, and her voice was like music, so much lighter than any of the ones of the Company. “Kili!”</p><p>Bilbo shuddered a bit, beside Thorin. He’d heard tales of Dis’ stubbornness – to rival Thorin’s – and even more about her pride and hard work.</p><p>What ever would he do if she didn’t accept him? Make his case, maybe? Raise his voice and get loud and say ‘well, we’re married now, so wipe your tears and go to Brandywine’?</p><p>After she’d all but suffocated Fili and Kili in a smothering embrace, she drew back and patted at their hair, their cheeks – scoffing and frowning all the way. Then Fili pointed in Thorin and Bilbo’s direction, and Dis glanced over.</p><p>“Oh, dear,” Bilbo breathed.</p><p>“Dis!” Thorin called, stepping forward.</p><p>Dis stomped over, and there was a furious glare on her face. “Thorin Oakenshield,” she snapped, “you utterly stupid, ridiculous, <em>idiotic </em>– ” And before she could finish, she threw her arms around his neck and clung on tight. “Never do anything like this again!”</p><p>Thorin returned the hug with ease. “Oh, namad, I’ve missed you, too. There’s so much to show you around Erebor, I – ”</p><p>“Oh, enough with that,” Dis sniffed, pulling away to take him in. “Have you not seen a comb since you left Ered Luin? Here you are, a <em>King </em>of our people, and you have not taken proper care of – oh, the audacity of you! And have you not eaten, either? You’re thin as a stick!”</p><p>Bilbo took it back. If she didn’t accept him, he’d nod and say ‘understandable, thank you’ and then share some of his favourite recipes.</p><p>Then Dis turned those thunderous eyes on Bilbo. “And <em>you</em>,” she said.</p><p>Thorin tried, “Dis…”</p><p>But more he could not say, for Dis dove forward and gathered Bilbo in a hug as crushing as the one she’d delivered Fili and Kili. “<em>Thank you</em>,” she whispered, so quietly Bilbo barely heard it.</p><p>She pulled back just as fast. “So,” she said, and sniffed, crossing her arms. “This is the hobbit? The hobbit <em>dragon</em>, my brother’s One, married to him and ready to take up the mantle of Khalûn?”</p><p>Bilbo straightened and cleared his throat, wishing dearly for some belt or something similar to stick his thumbs in. “That would be me,” he said, hoping the tremble in his voice was not overly obvious.</p><p>And when Dis smiled, she smiled with her whole body – like sunshine and starlight locked in dance. “You’ll do just fine.”</p><p>*</p><p>With the help of a handful of additional dwarves, it did not take long for all the supplies from Dis’ caravans to be hoisted into place. Bilbo did not go with them – he was flanking Thorin, who was leading Dis through the restored areas of Erebor – but he could hear the cheering from the kitchens when more food was brought in.</p><p>Dis was a good listener. She walked beside Thorin and nodded where she should and asked questions when it seemed wise. That was good – Thorin had explained to Bilbo, upon inquiry, that Dis had disowned the throne in favour of being Second Advisor, heir to Balin. Taking in information was essential, then.</p><p>Their walk took them to the royal quarters, where Thorin showed Dis the way to the common living room. Every royal bedchamber was equipped with bedroom, bathroom, sitting area and an office – but there was also an official common area for them to lounge in.</p><p>It was still very bare, considering most of the old furniture had been tossed out due to – well, scorch marks. Still, there were a few couches and two tables, and now Dis sat in one of the couches, gesturing for Thorin and Bilbo to do so as well.</p><p>“I have brought all the supplies you requested,” Dis said, inclining her head. “And some extra, for you made no mention of this already.”</p><p>Thorin frowned. “I forgot something?”</p><p>“Tell me,” said Dis, and put her hands on her knees. “How are you planning on keeping a whole mountain – hundreds of dwarves, who might not have been ready to winter here – clothed and warm?”</p><p>Bilbo paled, then slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, <em>no…</em>”</p><p>“Worry not, dear,” said Dis, gesturing a hand dismissively, “we’ve brought enough cloth, yarn and string to last us the winter through – and more, possibly. All we then are missing are people who can wield it.”</p><p>“I can,” Bilbo instantly offered. “I can sew, embroider, knit, crochet, and weave well, and other forms too, though they’re not my specialities. I would be happy to help.”</p><p>Dis looked at him – <em>really </em>looked at him, not like the first once-over she’d given when they first met. “Very good,” she allowed softly. “I have some workers with me, though not very many… Ori and Dori can work with yarn, can they not?”</p><p>Both Thorin and Bilbo nodded. “Ori more with knitting, Dori more with weaving,” Thorin elaborated.</p><p>“Bifur knits as well,” said Bilbo. “Not with great precision, but with speed and enough skill to keep a person clad.”</p><p>“Excellent,” said Dis. “Would you be willing to lead a group of workers, then, Your Gentleness? You’ll have a fuller picture of what needs to be done, and where.”</p><p>Bilbo shared a look with Thorin. “I would,” he allowed, “but – I don’t have much experience with being a leader. Will they listen?”</p><p>Thorin gave a dark chuckle. “They better.”</p><p>Before Thorin or Dis could say anything further, Bilbo blurted, “and <em>please</em>, do call me Bilbo?”</p><p>*</p><p>A meeting was scheduled between the gathered yarnworkers the following day. There weren’t many of them – Bilbo, Ori, Dori and Bifur – plus seven from Ered Luin. They all seemed like kind people, which was a huge bonus. If they could talk lightly with each other, that would be best for all involved.</p><p>Thorin found them a workroom, tucked into some conference chamber from before the dragon came. Most of their supplies were moved there, as well.</p><p>And with that, they were left alone.</p><p>A dwarrow from Ered Luin stepped forward. “Your Gentleness,” they began, sketching a fine, polite bow in Bilbo’s direction. “Badri, child of Medri, at your service.”</p><p>“And Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” Bilbo said, returning the bow with as much respect as he could muster.</p><p>Badri was a short dwarrow, only a palm’s width taller than Bilbo himself. With hips wider than their shoulders, a soft frame and kind eyes, they were the spitting image of welcoming. Both their hair and beard were kept short, but were well-combed nonetheless – falling in coarse curls in a reddish cobber bordering on golden in some places, and purple in others.</p><p>
  
  
</p><p>“It’s an honour to work with you,” Badri continued. “I’m the leader of our small group – if you have any questions, I’d be happy to answer.” They paused for a moment, then nodded and dove on. “I <em>think </em>we have enough resources for a couple hundred dwarrow, but – I’m not sure if we can cover the men, as well, as we’re not familiar with working with them.”</p><p>“Neither are any of us,” said Bilbo, nodding thoughtfully. “I don’t suppose we could call in some men to help?”</p><p>“I’m glad you bring it up, Your Gentleness,” said Badri, with a relieved smile. It crinkled around their eyes, folding like paper. Bilbo found he quite liked it. “With only eleven workers, and one so busy such as yourself, I was hoping we could request anyone with experience from the Iron Hill army, as well as from the men. Would any answer the call?”</p><p>“I’d say so,” said Bilbo cheerfully. “I don’t know much about any from the Iron Hills, but I’ve seen many men – women, men and children alike – tinkering with various sort of needles during their stay here. Many of them are wounded, but some are simply caretakers… if they could spare a handful or so, it wouldn’t surprise me.”</p><p>A few of the other dwarves behind Badri exhaled in relief. “Wonderful,” said Badri. “That is good news. Do you suppose we could find someone who would be willing to keep account of our supplies?”</p><p>Bilbo shot a look at Ori. He knew best and most about the current situation among the races gathered under stone. “The Iron Hills brought two or three scribes for that reason,” he said, frowning a bit as he chewed on his lip. “We could ask if they would be willing to take on the extra work…”</p><p>“I will do so,” said Dori, and sniffed.</p><p>Bilbo laughed. “Then we’re assured one of those to help! Thank you, Dori.”</p><p>“Naturally,” said Dori. “Now, before we continue, may I ask – what, precisely, do we have to work with?”</p><p>And so the conversation dipped and dwelled into territory littered with numbers and cloth types and Yavanna knows what else.</p><p>*</p><p>“Bilbo?”</p><p>“Mm?” said Bilbo distantly, barely audible over the scratch of quill against parchment. He was making another list. His life seemed to be one endless list at this point – not that he minded much. It was easier to keep track this way.</p><p>“Bilbo,” came the voice again, sterner this time. A heavy hand fell onto his shoulder, and it snapped through the darkness like a piece of rubber drawn too far. Bilbo jumped, staring up at Thorin with wide eyes. Half his face was cast in shadow. Had the fireplace gone out? When had that happened?</p><p>He cleared his throat. “Ahem. Hum. Yes?”</p><p>“It is late,” Thorin said, and the stern fell away for worry. “Are you alright? You’ve been working for hours, Dis says…”</p><p>Bilbo glanced down at the – admittedly, rather large – pile of paper before him. “I’m fine,” he said, but he wasn’t sure. “I’ve just been… thinking about what to make and how much of it is needed… in comparison to how many dwarves we are.”</p><p>“Dwarrow,” Thorin said absently, leaning over Bilbo’s shoulder to look at his notes. “And your persistence is admirable, but even heroes need their sleep.”</p><p>“What?” said Bilbo.</p><p>Thorin turned to frown at him. “I said, even heroes need – ”</p><p>“No, before that,” Bilbo interrupted. “Is ‘dwarrow’ the correct, plural form? I thought it was a gender…”</p><p>The hand on Bilbo’s shoulder traveled upward to feel his temperature. “No one told you?” Thorin asked. “It is both. Dwarf, dwarrow, dwarrowdam. Dwarves is used for male dwarrow exclusively, dwarrowdams for female dwarrow… but as it’s rather rude to assume, we use dwarrow to be safe.”</p><p>Bilbo frowned, then, too. “We have been married for <em>weeks</em>,” he slowly said, “and you decide to tell me <em>now</em>?”</p><p>Thorin shrugged a little awkwardly. “I thought you knew. Either way, it matters little – people have not complained. But, Bilbo, ghiv – uhm. That is not why I came here.”</p><p>“No, I suppose it’s not,” said Bilbo, and glanced down at his papers. “How late was it again?”</p><p>“An hour to midnight.”</p><p>“What! Oh, dear me! Come, come – why are you not in bed? My, why am <em>I </em>not in bed?” Bilbo blustered about, frantically gathering as many papers into his arms as he could. “No, no – this won’t do. Thorin! Help me here, will y – ”</p><p>Thorin’s hand on Bilbo’s neck shut him up.</p><p>Actually, it did more than shut him up. He tensed, then slowly tilted his head back to look up at him. The warmth and openness that met him could’ve melted bones.</p><p>“Of course,” Thorin muttered, and retrieved his hand – slowly, ever so slowly, fingers lingering and tracing deep groves into Bilbo’s skin.</p><p>(At least it felt that way.)</p><p>Bilbo stood in shocked silence as Thorin gathered up the remaining papers, then took the ones Bilbo was holding and sorted them all into a neat pile.</p><p>“Come, now, then,” said Thorin softly. He put a hand on Bilbo’s elbow, guiding him gently out of the common room. “Time for bed, yasthûnê.”</p><p>Bilbo, numbly, muttered, “I don’t know what that means.”</p><p>Thorin pressed a kiss to his hair. “It means, ‘my husband.’”</p><p>“Oh,” said Bilbo very, very quietly.</p><p>When Thorin helped Bilbo beneath the covers and then slid in after him, Bilbo didn’t fight it.</p><p>*</p><p>The next morning, Bilbo slipped quietly away. He put on his clothes – stubbornly keeping as much hobbit-y in the designs as he could, though they were all dwarven made, if fixed in size by his own hand – and then disappeared out the door with nearly as much stealth as the One Ring could give him (which, for the record, he’d stowed away in a desk drawer and promptly forgotten all about).</p><p>He knew the way to the forges well by now. On the way he passed several dwarves – <em>dwarrow</em>, he reminded himself sternly – and a few women bustling about in the early morning hours. They bowed – or courtsied, as was the case for the women – and muttered, ‘Your Gentleness’ when he passed, which was very kind of them, as he was not walking about with his designated bodyguard quite yet (that would be Dwalin).</p><p>Though the rest of Erebor was surprisingly quiet – Balin had wistfully recalled that the mountain never slept; this silence was likely due to the incredibly small population, most of whom were wounded, still – the forges were alive and sparking.</p><p>Bilbo drew a deep breath as he entered, the hot air bringing the scent of metal, fire, and life to his nose and lungs. To a dragon, there was little that smelled better. How Smaug had let the forges dull into slumber, he couldn’t fathom.</p><p>A few dwarv – <em>dwarrow </em>called out to him as he passed, but they were used to his presence by now. He only waved back, not bothering to try and yell over the noise of metal being worked as he crossed the room as quickly and nicely as he could.</p><p>The whole nest Smaug had made had been moved with utmost care into a safe, but warm, part of the forge. Close to one of the containers of melted gold, but away from the actual flames, so the nest itself would not light aflame. The egg would be alright, but the fire could easily spread.</p><p>Bilbo clambered into the nest, shedding only his outer coat when the blistering heat became a tad too much. He smiled to himself as he neared the egg, then pressed a palm flat against the rough surface of the shell. “Hello, lovely,” he whispered, immensely grateful for his nearly fire-proof hide. “I cannot <em>wait </em>to see you.”</p><p>And the life on the other side of the shell shifted, as though it agreed.</p><p>*</p><p>“Fifteen Iron Hill dwarrow have offered their services,” Dori reported. “Two of which offer themselves as scribes, as well as workers.”</p><p>Badri clapped their hands together and beamed. The sun tattoo slipping past their hairline furrowed as they raised their eyebrows. “Great!”</p><p>“About twenty men offer theirs, as well,” added Bilbo, who’d had a rather nice conversation with Bard regarding the topic. “The King and Crown Princess among them.”</p><p>“Even better!” Badri added. “When can they start?”</p><p>*</p><p>Bilbo had never made so many scarves after one another before.</p><p>*</p><p>“Thorin, have you seen my pen?” Bilbo asked, peering under some paper in his search. “The good one, with the eagle feather?”</p><p>Thorin’s answering chuckle was fond. “You left it in the common room, I believe.”</p><p>“Oh, blast,” Bilbo muttered, “you’re right, of course. I’ll go look.”</p><p>Thorin, who was bent over his own desk and had his hands buried in his hair, glanced up hopefully. “I can come with you?”</p><p>Bilbo raised an eyebrow. “If it’s just to get out of reading Thranduil’s letter, then <em>no, </em>your highly esteemed majesty. You cannot.”</p><p>Thorin groaned and returned to the spindly handwriting. “Confound Westron letters and their fluidness, this is a – a nightmare!”</p><p>That softened Bilbo somewhat. He knew Thorin could read Westron well, but he himself sometimes struggled a bit with Thranduil’s writing – even though they shared many similarities with his own. “Do you want me to read over it for you?” he asked, leaning over his shoulder. Something about provisions, and Thranduil’s son…</p><p>Sighing, Thorin shook his head. “I need to learn this one way or another, but thank you for the offer nonetheless.”</p><p>“Alright,” said Bilbo. “Tell me if you change your mind.” He gave Thorin a moment to answer – he only shot Bilbo a smile – and left.</p><p>He’d expected the common room to be empty. When he found that it wasn’t, he blinked in surprise. “Lady Dis,” he greeted, giving a bow to the dwarrowdam perched on one of the couches, reading.</p><p>Without looking away from her book, Dis raised an eyebrow and said, “Your Gentleness.”</p><p>Bilbo frowned. “I told you – ”</p><p>Dis shut the book with a snap. “And I told you to call me Dis.” The air crackled between them but for a moment, broken when Dis looked up with a smile.  “Hello, Bilbo. Can I help you?”</p><p>“Ah, oh – I’m just… looking for my pen.” He hurriedly glanced about the room, spotted the pen on one of the far tables, and sighed. “There it is.” Skittering across the room, he grabbed the pen. When he made to leave, though, he paused.</p><p>Dis was watching him expectantly. “Are you busy?”</p><p>Bilbo glanced down at the pen, then over at her. “Not really.”</p><p>With a sharp nod, Dis said, “sit,” and pointed to the couch opposite of her.</p><p>Bilbo swallowed.</p><p>And sat.</p><p>Dis leaned back in the couch, open and confident. Her steel eyes pinned him in place, and it was weird, how he could look at someone so incredibly alike with Thorin and yet not feel a sliver of the attraction. Then again, it wasn’t Thorin’s <em>looks </em>Bilbo loved.</p><p>As though she’d been able to read his thoughts, Dis said, “how do you feel about my brother?”</p><p>Bilbo tensed. “Uhm.” When Dis only raised an eyebrow, <em>clearly </em>expecting an answer, he hurriedly began to compose a response. “Well, he’s a – a stubborn twit – and, uhm, hot-headed to boot. But! But – he’s kind, when he wants to, and intelligent – he has so much pride, for better or for worse, and – and he’ll continuously put himself last, if it means his people come out on top.” Dis’ expression became troubled, and Bilbo raised his chin. “I think it’s very brave of him. He’s a good person.”</p><p>“But do you love him?”</p><p>Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye. <em>Yes</em>, he wanted to say, to crow, to yell it from the highest peak, <em>yes, yes, I do, I <strong>do!</strong></em></p><p>But he didn’t dare.</p><p>Dis sighed. “You’re <em>married.</em>”</p><p>“I know!” Bilbo exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. “I know, Dis, <em>I know</em>, and it’s – I – I’m sure everyone in this mountain is sure it’s a happy marriage, and I <em>am</em> happy, I am! But I know it could be so much better – if – but – <em>oh</em>, this <em>yearning </em>is going to be the death of me, I don’t understand how you can – just – how you can just <em>do it.</em>”</p><p>She shook her head, disbelief painting her expression. “Then why on Earth did you marry him, if you knew you didn’t feel the same way?”</p><p>He collapsed back into the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. Yes, why, indeed? “Because I am selfish, he wanted it, and on the off-chance that maybe… sometime in the future… we might…”</p><p>Arranged marriages, unrequited love – what on Earth had Bilbo gotten himself <em>into</em>?</p><p>Dis blinked. “Oh,” she said, “you think you can – ? That you will…?”</p><p>Bilbo gave a dry chuckle, still not looking at her due to the palm planted solidly in his face. “I sure hope so, or I’ll surely suffocate in my own emotions.” He shook his head. “Had I not been his One, I would not have married him.”</p><p>Her harsh ‘if you hurt my brother, you die’ attitude melted away. “As long as you don’t go breaking each other’s hearts,” she said, her tone soft. “Thorin is happy with you, the way things are. He would not push you to do something you don’t wish.”</p><p>Bilbo sniffed, shoulders hunched. “You are his sister,” he mumbled. “Do you think… do you think he could ever – ever love me? As I am, with all my flaws, and all my faults?”</p><p>“Oh, Bilbo,” Dis cooed. Bilbo didn’t dare look at her. “He already <em>does</em>.”</p><p>Bilbo smiled drily and wiped at his nose. “Well,” he said, thinking of all the ways he loved and was loved and how Thorin wasn’t a single one of them, “that’s something.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Art of Badri child of Medri can be found HERE: https://louthegreatfurrry.tumblr.com/post/632141748941012992/badri-a-dwarrow-weaver-from-ered-luin-features</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Alternate Beginning of Chapter 13 (deleted)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The first attempt at beginning chapter 13, aka the first chapter after the end of TDR. Ultimately deleted.</p>
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  <p>Three weeks later, they’d gotten several halls and chambers of Erebor into living fashion. Both men and dwarf alike flocked to the mountain, both to move in properly and to help with restorations. Caravans from the Iron Hills arrived around the same time, to much rejoice and happiness from the dwarves and men. Food was carried on everyone’s shoulders, as was clothes, yarn, cloth, iron, tools, rope, furniture, wood and more.</p>
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  <p>The egg was moved into the forges on Bilbo’s prompting. There was much uncertainty about the ordeal, but Thorin barked the orders, and people kept their grumbling to themselves.</p>
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  <p>Ah, Thorin. He was being very kind about everything. They shared rooms in the royal quarters, now, and though Bilbo found it didn’t <em>bother </em>him, it still caused issues.</p>
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  <p>Such as when he, in the middle night, had to scramble out from the covers and into the cold darkness to hide <em>The One Ring, </em>which he had <em>FORGOTTEN ABOUT!</em></p>
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  <p><em>How does one </em>forget <em>about the One Ring? </em>he grumbled to himself, making his way awkwardly through the bedroom to fumble through various pockets of various clothes. <em>It is the One Ring! Goodness, Bilbo, you sure can lose your mind in your old years…</em></p>
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  <p>His fingers closed around the band. Heaving a sigh of relief, he began moving once more – now looking for something entirely different.</p>
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  <p>Not three minutes later he’d procured a pouch and several boxes. The Ring went into them all, and then that was stuffed into the back of the most unused drawer in Bilbo’s desk, and then several stacks of papers went on top of that.</p>
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  <p>Comforted with the knowledge that the Ring was out of the open, Bilbo crawled back into bed.</p>
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  <p>And when Thorin rolled over and drew him close, he just closed his eyes and laid his head to rest.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Scrapped Chapter - 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first winter snow fell light and airy around Erebor, sheathing her in a fine blanket of white cold. Bilbo stood on the hidden balcony of the royal bedroom – and hidden it was, though hardy and with great view of Dale and Mirkwood – and took in the fantastical view with great joy, a smile on his face. His cloak was lined with fur – quite <em>un</em>hobbity – but the patterns sewn into the sleeves and cloth were of delicate, golden flowers.</p><p>“Enjoying the view?” Thorin asked, stepping up beside him and resting a hand on his shoulder.</p><p>Bilbo smiled up at him. “Quite! I’ve never seen anything like it.”</p><p>Thorin raised an eyebrow. “Do you not have snow, in the Shire?”</p><p>“Oh, we do, we do. But great cities of men, elves and dwarrow… not so much.”</p><p>He laughed. “Yes, I suppose there’s not much of that between the green rolling hills, hm? What do your eyes see, then?”</p><p>“Elves,” said Bilbo playfully.</p><p>Thorin blinked and tensed. “What?”</p><p>“Elves,” Bilbo repeated, and pointed to Mirkwood in the distance. “Carriages and a dozen elves or so. Is it the food provisions, do you reckon?”</p><p>Hurrying to the railing, Thorin shielded his eyes – used to darkness, not bright snow – from the sun. “By my beard,” he muttered, “that <em>is </em>them. But I sent the letter only yesterday…”</p><p>Bilbo shrugged, putting a hand on Thorin’s back. “They must’ve been ready, then.”</p><p>Thorin exhaled. There was wonder on his tone when he said, “they must’ve been.”</p><p>*</p><p>While Bilbo had gotten used to dwarvish clothes – or was it dwarrowish? – he had a harder time settling in with <em>royal </em>clothes. As Merlelel Bilbo – or, “the One Bilbo” as it was called – he didn’t <em>have </em>to meet at most meetings, nor did he have to care much what he wore.</p><p>But by Yavanna, his mom, mother, and every other relative, living or dead, past or present, would rise from the dead (or travel half the earth) to scold him if he did not take this role <em>seriously. </em>And so he put on loose pants that were tightened around the ankle, fine and inlaid with small gems along the hems. He donned shirt and jacket over that, and over that again, a fine Durin-blue cloak that reached his knees and had fur running all along a hood and down his spine. It was warm, and quite comfortable, but also very heavy.</p><p>His ears – he’d not had them pierced, though after Thorin had explained how meaningful the jewelry could be and how painless the procedure was, he was considering it – were adorned by golden clasps. Atop his curls rested a light crown – not one made for him, not yet, but one he had picked out from a row of heirlooms – made of silver hammered thin and fine. No rings nor bracelets were put upon his hands, though he had allowed a golden band around each ankle, since he walked without shoes anyway.</p><p>Lastly, Thorin had helped him with the facial paint for now, as Bilbo was unfamiliar with it. His cheeks were rosier than normal, and his eyebrows had been painted to be more vivid and clear. With a brush soft as silk Thorin had patted something shimmery-golden onto his eyelids.</p><p>“Am I good enough to present to the elven prince now?” he asked drily, extending his arms to the sides and raising his eyebrows at Thorin, who was fastening buttons across the room.</p><p>Thorin glanced up at him and smiled softly, fingers stilling. “You could wear whatever you want and be more than good enough, marlelelê, you know this. But yes, you are, and you look wonderful.”</p><p>“Well, we ought to look decent when appearing before our elven neighbours, oughtn’t we?” said Bilbo indignantly, straightening his cloak.</p><p>“Quite right,” said Thorin, and donned his finest cape.</p><p>*</p><p>After welcoming Prince Legolas to the Kingdom – and whispering in Thorin’s ear that, ‘he aided our escape!’ –  splitting up the food to where it was needed most and assigning guide-dwarrow to various elves, Bilbo bid Thorin farewell and went straight to the yarnwork-meeting without as much as a single change.</p><p>Only Imdris, a dwarrow from the Iron Hills, was there when he arrived. “Ah, Your Gentleness!” they greeted, smiling kindly. “You are early today – and dressed finely, to boot! What, pray tell, is the occasion?”</p><p>“Welcoming Prince Legolas to y – to our Kingdom,” Bilbo replied, returning the smile as he removed his cloak and walked over to the table Imdris was leaning against. “What news?”</p><p>“An elven lady brought me a scroll of numbers,” said Imdris, sounding quite pleased about it. Their silver-bell voice was pleased often, though. “She said they brought some cloth and string for our purposes… no yarn, she apologized, but string so strong even we would have trouble snapping it.” They chuckled a bit, shrugging. “Perhaps not me, however.”</p><p>Imdris wasn’t very strong, for dwarrow to be. They were more of a gentle kind, with gray eyes and thin lips and quite the undwarven nose. Bilbo had asked, and it seemed their great-great grandmother had been a woman – and they bore some of her genes, still, with finer hair and a weaker build than most dwarrow.</p><p>Still, they had a fine, chestnut brown beard and thick hair that fell in waves down their back. Both hair and beard was streaked with silver – but there was little else to show of their aging.</p><p>“That is great news, though,” Bilbo said, casting a glance at the scroll Imdris handed over. “We did worry…”</p><p>“We did,” Imdris agreed. “I believe it wise to declare it loud and clear, Your Gentleness. To ease animosity between our people.” They gave him a kind look. “Though, I do not expect you to listen to a mere scribe’s words. I am merely telling you my thoughts.”</p><p>Bilbo reached up and put a hand on their shoulder. The shawl they bore was soft to the touch; softer than he expected. “Your thoughts are valuable,” he said, meaning every word. “Thank you for sharing them. I’ll discuss it with Thorin.”</p><p>Imdris nodded, then turned back to their lists, bringing forth a quill to jot down some notes in the margins. While they worked, Bilbo began to flit throughout the room, finding the materials that were needed for today’s two hours of work.</p><p>By the time he’d settled down and began to sew, Imdris’ uncertain, “Your Gentleness?” spoke up.</p><p>“Hm – yes?” said Bilbo, glancing up from his needle.</p><p>Imdris chewed on their lip. “You say my thoughts are important. Well – I have thoughts. If you would hear?”</p><p>Bilbo put down the needle. “I’m listening.”</p><p>“Is this an occurrence the royal house is ready to continue?” Imdris asked, folding their hands in front of their stomach. “I mean – after winter yields to spring. Will this continue? Will we hand out the necessary to families and dwarrow who need?” They shrugged a little. “For if so, I would be more than glad to help.”</p><p>Bilbo blinked. “You’re not going back to the Iron Hills?”</p><p>Imdris smiled. “I have uncarved pebbles resting in this dark stone,” they said. “My home is here.”</p><p>“Oh, how wonderful! Pebbles… those are dwarf – uh, dwarrow children, yes?”</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>“Alright – as for the other things you mentioned, that is a good idea. I will discuss that with Thorin, as well.”</p><p>*</p><p>After finishing the daily yarnwork – he was making <em>socks</em> again – Bilbo went for a quick detour to his rooms to wipe off the paint and change into something a bit less regal before dinner.</p><p>He was distracted, however, by a scowling Thorin.</p><p>“Thorin?” Bilbo asked, blinking in surprise at the dwarf sitting on the floor by the foot of their bed. He wore naught but a shirt, socks and loose pants – and the intense scowl, of course. “What’s the matter?”</p><p>“I,” said Thorin, but didn’t continue, only pulled his knees up to his chest with a dark grunt.</p><p>Bilbo, now infinitely more concerned than he’d originally been, hurried to remove his cloak and sink to the floor before him. “Thorin,” he said, a faint bit more urgent, “did something happen?”</p><p>“<em>I</em>,” said Thorin again, but shut his mouth. He shook his head, braids dangling around his ears.</p><p>What in Yavanna’s name could upset Thorin to such degrees that he would shut down entirely? Bilbo, worrying his lip, nudged Thorin’s knees apart and shifted forward, settling in between his thighs. “If you don’t want to talk, it’s okay,” Bilbo muttered, putting a hand to Thorin’s cheek and tilting his head to look into his eyes. “But I would like to know what bothers you… and if there’s any way I can help.” When Thorin did not immediately respond, Bilbo sighed sadly and leaned into his chest, tucking his hands around his waist. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay, y – yasthûnê.”</p><p>Ah, confound it, he surely butchered that entirely. He made a mental note to ask Balin for extra lessons in pronunciations.</p><p>Bilbo’s strangulation of the khuzdul language aside, Thorin lifted his mighty arms and wrapped them about Bilbo’s body – without a single word or sound curling around him. And <em>oh, </em>did Bilbo feel small in Thorin’s arms – small, and delicate, and so utterly safe it was kind of ridiculous. Even in dragon form, he likely would feel tiny beside someone like Thorin.</p><p>It wasn’t just in appearance.</p><p>As was the norm, the dull waves of body heat and a heartbeat – <em>Thorin, </em>his mate’s, heartbeat – lulled Bilbo into blissful rest. Not sleep, nor quite dozing off, but retreating into a hazy state of mind that almost resembled <em>floating</em>, if he were to describe it. Time flowed seamlessly into itself in such a state – which is how Bilbo had no idea how much passed before Thorin spoke.</p><p>“It’s the elves,” he murmured. Bilbo hummed softly to assure him he’d heard. “They – unsettle me. I know – I’ve learned…” He cut himself off with a frustrated grunt.</p><p>Hushing him, Bilbo wiggled a hand free and lifted it to card his fingers into Thorin’s hair.</p><p>After a pause, Thorin continued. “I am starting to see that… old ways of thinking is not… necessarily <em>true</em>. With – with the prince’s aid… and Kili’s elf… I do not… I do not think…” His voice cracked a little. “I have done so much <em>wrong</em>, Bilbo… so much I can’t… that I shouldn’t have…”</p><p>Bilbo lifted his head to give Thorin a sharp look. “Thorin, you are not <em>bad </em>for realizing you were wrong. It’s a good thing – a sign of strength and wisdom – to alter your way of thinking.”</p><p>“But I’m still <em>thinking </em>that way!” Thorin exclaimed. Bilbo shut his mouth with a <em>snap</em>. “I’m still <em>thinking </em>that way, Bilbo, I still think – even when I <em>know </em>– and it feels so <em>bad</em>, I feel so <em>wrong </em>– I don’t want to – ”</p><p>“Thorin,” Bilbo interrupted, brushing aside some of his hair to cradle his face between his hands. “Thorin! You’re not a bad person!”</p><p>Thorin’s face crumpled, and he pushed aside Bilbo’s hands to bury his face in his shoulder. “And neither <em>are they</em>!”</p><p>“Good!” Bilbo praised, tilting his head to press his nose into Thorin’s coarse hair. “Good, Thorin, <em>I’m so proud of you</em>.”</p><p>“I’m so stupid,” Thorin mumbled. His fingers, resting against Bilbo’s sides, twitched.</p><p>Bilbo tugged lightly at his hair. “<em>No</em>,” he snapped. “No, Thorin, you are not stupid for realizing your wrongs!”</p><p>Thorin went quiet. When he raised his head, his eyes were wide. “You think so?”</p><p>“Yes, <em>indeed</em>. I am six thousand years your senior, Thorin, I know these things.”</p><p>Thorin blinked, and then he drew a hissing breath. In a voice broken so harshly it dug into Bilbo’s bones and flesh, he croaked, “I called you <em>cruel</em> – !”</p><p>Bilbo pushed him up and aside, grasping him by the shoulders. “And <em>I</em>,” he said, “forgave you the moment you said it, and every moment since! You, Thorin Oakenshield – ” And here he slid his hands down to cradle his neck, rather than his face. “ – are a <em>good, </em>strong person. Do not ever doubt that.”</p><p>“Not ever?” Thorin repeated, a weak smile on his lips.</p><p>“Not <em>ever</em>,” said Bilbo, and shook him a bit for good measure. “Now, if you are up for it, how about some dinner?”</p><p>“Dinner,” Thorin agreed, and staggered to his feet.</p><p>*</p><p>Tauriel joined them for dinner that day. She was a strange sight amidst all the dwarrow, with her long and narrow limbs and unearthly elegance. Still, she looked quite at <em>home </em>amidst them, too – with Kili tucked firmly into her side and several others rushing to drag her into conversation.</p><p>Of course, she was hardly welcomed by <em>everyone</em>. There were some people who cast her cold or hard looks, but certainly none that would dare harm the royal family. Dwalin’s constant presence by the table ensured that.</p><p>“Good afternoon, everyone,” Bilbo greeted as he sat by the table. “What’s on the menu?”</p><p>He was met by greetings from many beloved dwarrow; Dis, Fili, Kili, Bofur, Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Dori and Nori were all seated by the table. Oin and Gloin were nowhere to be seen, and Bombur was likely still busy in the kitchens.</p><p>“Smells like pasta,” said Thorin in surprise. “But where…?”</p><p>“Legolas brought it,” Tauriel explained, smiling at Thorin from over her pasta-ladled fork. “The elves of Greenwood are fond of pasta in all its forms. You dwarrow have, however, added some ingredients I’ve never had with pasta before…”</p><p>That piqued Bilbo’s interest. He hurried to grab one of the free bowls and poured some pasta into it. “Cheese?” he asked, looking up at Tauriel. “Is that what you’re not used to?”</p><p>Tauriel nodded, swallowing down her mouthful before answering. “We are used to eating fine cheeses alone beside wine… not using it with pasta. It’s delicious, though – I’ll make sure Legolas knows about this trick, so he can bring it back to the others.”</p><p>“Bombur would be ecstatic to know that,” Bilbo said, and stuck a forkful into his mouth. Tauriel was right; it was absolutely <em>fantastic</em> – rivaling even his uncle’s recipe, which was beloved by entire Hobbiton.</p><p>He managed to get halfway through the bowl before an eager Ori came running to the table. “Bilbo!” he exclaimed. “I have a message from King Bard!”</p><p>Never had Bilbo swallowed faster. “From Bard?” he repeated, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Well, what does he say?”</p><p>“He’d like to have afternoon tea with you today,” Ori said, “in his quarters.”</p><p>Bilbo blinked. “How awfully nice of him! Yes, I’d like that… I don’t have anything else to do tonight either way.”</p><p>Bard had chosen to stay in the mountain with the most vulnerable of his people, as well as doubling as a caretaker for his children. His second-in-command, Percy, was in charge of Dale in his absence.  </p><p>“Wonderful,” said Ori brightly. “I’ll go tell him right away!” He spun on his heel and began to march away, but a shrill gasp from Dori stopped him in his tracks.</p><p>“<em>Ori</em>,” Dori exclaimed, shooting to his feet. “What is – what are you – !?”</p><p>Ori tensed. Through gritted teeth, he said, “what is it, Dori?”</p><p>The high-pitched answer drew every eye. “In your <em>hair!</em>” Bilbo barely caught a glimpse of the courting bead in Ori’s hair before Ori’s scampered off in the direction of Bard. “<em>ORI!</em>” Dori shrieked after him.</p><p>Nori rolled his eyes. “Oh, let ‘im go,” he grunted. “He’s not done anythin’ <em>wrong</em>, ye nag. Let him live his life, when he’s ready to tell ye, he will.”</p><p>Dori deflated like a popped balloon, sinking down into his seat. “You know, don’t you?” he muttered.</p><p>“Aye. And ye will, too, okay? Just give ‘im time.”</p><p>Dori covered his face in his hands and sighed heavily. “Alright…”</p><p>*</p><p>Thorin was fretting. “And you are sure you don’t know what he wants?”</p><p>Bilbo didn’t stop combing his foot-hair, only rolled his eyes. “Thorin, you were there. We know precisely the same, no more, no less.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” Thorin sighed. He sat beside Bilbo on the bed and kissed his hair briefly. “I just – worry.”</p><p>“I know you do,” said Bilbo, looking up at him with a warm smile. For all that they bickered and bantered, it was obvious Thorin cared for him. The knowledge was warming. “But come now, it’s <em>Bard</em>.”</p><p>“It’s Bard,” Thorin echoed. “Alright, then… go, and have fun. But return to me in one piece!”</p><p>Bilbo laughed, nudging him with his shoulder. “Yes, yes – I’ll return alive and in one piece. Maybe even unharmed.”</p><p>Thorin’s shocked, “Bilbo!” followed him as he bolted out the door.</p><p>*</p><p>Bard was a kind man. The house he’d picked out was on the smaller side, meant for two inhabitants. They were just three – young Bain had refused to stay in the mountain and was under Percy’s care – and none of them spent much time at the house, but still, making it work was worthy of praise.</p><p>Bilbo didn’t have to wait long after he knocked for the door to swing open. Bard, on the other side, gave him a kind smile. “Ah, Your Gentleness.”</p><p>Huffing, Bilbo bowed as deeply as he possibly could, uttering with utmost reverence, “Your Majesty.”</p><p>Bard chuckled, stepping aside from the door. “Alright, I get it, no need for that. Come on in, friend.”</p><p>There were only three rooms in the house – a bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom – but it was cozy and nice. Though the sizes were off – Bard had assigned the man-sized houses for those who needed them most – Bard could stand upright (though he had to bend for the doorways).</p><p>Little Tilda jumped from the kitchen table and bolted for the door, a gleeful cry of, “Mister Bilbo!” all Bilbo had as a warning before he had an armful of mannish child.</p><p>“Oh!” he exclaimed, fumbling to support her weight as she threw her feet around his knees. As Bard rushed to help, Bilbo chuckled, “hi there, Princess Tilda! How fare you?”</p><p>Bard managed to tangle Tilda away from Bilbo, offering a sheepish smile as he patted her head. “I’m good!” Tilda said, her smile bright and innocent. “What about you?”</p><p>“I’m quite well, myself, thank you,” Bilbo assured her. Glancing around, he noted the otherwise empty house. “Where’s your sister?”</p><p>“Hunting!” Tilda said.</p><p>Bilbo turned a surprised glance to Bard, who shrugged. “The elven princess – uh, princess to be – has taken a liking to her. They’ve been training together for some weeks now… they should be home soon. But come, sit – Tilda, would you be a dear and get the tea?”</p><p>As Tilda went to fetch the tea from the kitchen counter, Bilbo sat in the offered chair. It fit him much better than Bard. “It’s good to hear they get along well,” he said. “Have Tilda found any friends within the mountain, yet?”</p><p>“The Princes adore her,” Bard said, taking the kettle from Tilda’s hands and reaching for a plate of biscuits. “And one of the warriors… from the Blue Mountains, I believe… he’s fairly young. Gloin’s child, I think? He’s good with children.”</p><p>“Gimli,” Bilbo nodded. He smiled, accepting the cup Bard handed over. “His father would be ecstatic to hear <em>that</em>. What sort is this, anyway?”</p><p>Bard blew on his own cup. “A recipe of my mother’s, the last batch I have left from… from Lake Town. Wildberries and mint, I believe.”</p><p>Raising his eyebrows – he hadn’t heard of that combination before – Bilbo put the cup to his lips. “Oh! Why, I have never…” He squinted into the deep red liquid. “I haven’t had something quite like this outside Northfarthing before!”</p><p>Tilda, who was peeking over the edge of the table, pouted. “Is that good?”</p><p>Bilbo smiled, patting her head. “Northfarthing is one of the four farthings in the Shire, dear. They’re renowned for their bitter fruit tea – which is good, worry not, bitter fruit is a tricky thing to get right. And this managed quite well! I imagine it might be helped greatly along with the mint…”</p><p>Bard’s eyebrows had risen all the way into his hairline. “Had I known tea was this important, I would’ve taken greater care…”</p><p>“Nonsense!” Bilbo exclaimed. “You’ve done <em>very </em>well, Bard, never fear. But tell me, did you request this meeting just for pleasantries, or did you have something you wished to discuss?” Bilbo had a suspicion it might be the latter, but he was prepared for Bard to answer for both.</p><p>“Ah.” Bard glanced at Tilda. “What is the time, love?”</p><p>Tilda froze. Slowly – <em>apprehensively – </em>she glanced at the clock by the wall. Sourly, she muttered, “bedtime…”</p><p>Bilbo leaned in close and whispered, “if you go to bed now, I’ll bring homemade cookies the next time I come along!”</p><p>She lit up. “Really?”</p><p>“Really, really,” Bilbo said, and winked.</p><p>“G’night da! G’night Mister Bilbo!” She stood on her toes to kiss Bard’s cheek, waved at Bilbo, and disappeared into the bedroom.</p><p>Bilbo watched her go with a smile. “She’s a sweetheart.”</p><p>“She really is,” said Bard. “I’m lucky to have her. Them all – I’m lucky to have all of them.” He smiled a bit absently. “They make me proud.” Then he shot Bilbo an askew glance. “Would you really bring cookies?”</p><p>Bilbo scoffed. “I don’t <em>lie </em>to fauntlings,” he said, only partially mockingly scandalized. “Uh – children. And I’ll have you know, my cookies are the best in Hobbiton.”</p><p>Chuckling, Bard held up a hand. “Peace, Bilbo – I meant no offense.”</p><p>“Well.” Bilbo sniffed, shaking out his sleeves slightly. “What did you wish to discuss?”</p><p>Bard sobered. “I was wondering how many hobbits we can expect coming from the Shire,” he began. “And what Dale can do to help them settle in.”</p><p>“Oh! Hm.” Bilbo bit his cheek as he thought. Bard’s question was understandable – they were halfway through the winter by now, and spring was fast approaching. “I have sent a letter to the Thain explaining the situation and that we are planning a visit for spring, but I have yet to receive a response from him. The raven has not returned, so I suppose Ruby is discussing the matter with the others before penning a reply.”</p><p>There was a bit of silence as Bard mused on this. Then he said, “Is Ruby the Thain?” When Bilbo nodded, he continued, “I apologize if I overstep, but I wouldn’t wish to do any unnecessary assumptions… is Ruby a male?”</p><p>Bilbo blinked. “No,” he said, a bit hesitant. “Ruby is a sheling.” When Bard frowned, he explained, “a female hobbit younger than fifty. Are you confused because I called her ‘him’?”</p><p>“Yes,” Bard admitted, “we tend to be set in our ways. I am sorry.”</p><p>“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Bilbo hurried to assure him. “Hobbits are, as well! It is only, the Thain is always a ‘he’. Not necessarily a male, but always spoken of as a ‘he’ if the matter regards the position of Thain.” He shrugged a little. “Most Big Folk won’t respect a female ruler of a weak people.”</p><p>Bard nodded slowly. “I am sorry to hear that. There was some grumbling when I declared Sigrid my heir, as well.”</p><p>“Cut their hands off,” said Bilbo kindly.</p><p>Bard barked a surprised laugh. “Perhaps,” he allowed. “I shall think on it.”</p><p>“Good,” said Bilbo, and raised the cup of tea again.</p><p>The door slammed open.</p><p>Bilbo spilled tea all over his shirt. He let out a squeak and spun to face the entrance, ready to admonish whomever was running around slamming doors open for no reason.</p><p>His blood froze over.</p><p>It was Tauriel, her hair wild and clothes torn – eyes wide and teeth bared, <em>and were those fangs? </em>– arm tucked in against her chest, ripped flesh glaring through gaps and dripping blood onto the floor. “Your Majesty!” she gasped. “It’s Princess Sigrid!”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Scrapped Chapter - 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>Wolves</em>, Bilbo’s blood sung. <em>Wolves, wolves, wolves.</em></p><p>The emergency meeting had been called swiftly. Several of the royal house – among them Thorin, Fili, Kili and Bilbo – had gathered, some looking haggard, others prepared. Poor Kili was fawning over Tauriel’s bleeding arm, trying fruitlessly to get her to see a healer. Thorin was wearing his shirt inside-out and had mismatched boots, but Fili was as regal as Bilbo had ever seen him.</p><p>Bard was white with worry. Dain, who’d been asleep but woken by the racket, was struggling to put on his shoe.</p><p>“Where were you?” asked Bilbo, before the meeting had time to descend into chaos.</p><p>Tauriel, who was clutching at Kili’s hand but also pacing across the floor – so fast Kili had to jog to keep up – snapped, “western side of Dale, to the left of the mountain. We were – I was showing her some tracks, and it was starting to snow – so we started going back – but I – ”</p><p>She was panicking. For whatever reason – Bilbo wouldn’t judge – she was panicking.</p><p>Bilbo shot to his feet and hurried over to her, gently clasping her elbow. “Tauriel,” he said, not harshly, but not soft, either. “Breathe, love. Breathe. It’s going to be alright, we’ll find her. But you need to talk to us first, okay?”</p><p>Tauriel nodded hastily, closing her eyes and drawing sharp, short breaths.</p><p>“Deeper,” Bilbo coaxed. “Come on, with me, now – in, out. In, out. Good, like that, yes! Follow my voice, dear.”</p><p>Slowly, with Bilbo’s help, Tauriel regained some colour in her cheeks and some calm to her movements. Kili looked to Bilbo like he’d just declared himself a wizard with two heads.</p><p>“A wolf attacked,” Tauriel finally said, more like herself, but still worried and tense. “I took the blow and slew the beast, but – ”</p><p>“Breathe,” Bilbo quietly reminded her.</p><p>Tauriel took a short break, then continued. “But when I returned to myself after the scuffle, Sigrid was gone, and it was snowing too hard to find any tracks.”</p><p>Bard buried his face in his hands. Dain, who sat beside him, clasped his shoulder tightly.</p><p>“I searched for a while,” Tauriel said. She closed her eyes tightly, shoulders trembling. “But I was – too frantic and not like myself and – I could not focus… I am sorry.”</p><p>There was silence for a bit. Bilbo swallowed thickly, thoughts swirling, vague plans forming.</p><p>“Thank you for protecting her,” Bard croaked. His face was blank. “I cannot repay you.”</p><p>Tauriel didn’t answer. There were tears forming in her eyes. “That’s not all,” she whispered. “There were – there were howls – more wolves…”</p><p>In the thundering silence that followed, Bilbo drew a rattling breath. “Well,” he said – croaked, rather. “That’s settled, then. I’ll go look for her.”</p><p>Several people startled. “No!” Thorin barked, jumping to his feet. “No, Bilbo – it’s too dangerous!”</p><p>And there was heat in Bilbo’s voice when he pushed past the clump lodged in his throat and said, “not for a dragon.”</p><p>*</p><p>The wind screeched and whipped around him as he braved the storm – and storm it was, make no mistake. His feathers were not much help of insulation, being ripped this way and that by the harsh wind.</p><p>Bilbo squinted against the dark of night, barely able to see much against the crackle of white-snow-white. His dwarrow would not have fared better, but he could just barely see himself. He flew lower, battling the currents.</p><p>Dale rose abruptly from the void, and Bilbo did a sharp turn to avoid crashing straight into the outer wall. Hopefully, they wouldn’t panic and shoot at him. If he got hurt now – oh, he could imagine it, falling from the sky and into the thick snow, unable to move, unable to get help – buried.</p><p>The thought had him speed up and lower himself further, scanning the ground for any sign of Sigrid – footprints, shapes, <em>anything</em>.</p><p>He lost track of time as he swept across the landscape, nearly crashing into rocks and cliffs several times in his search. The chill was creeping up over him – loosing feeling in his tail and feet – but he didn’t care. <em>Couldn’t </em>care, not when Sigrid – barely a young adult, just off age, a <em>child </em>– was in danger, maybe hurt, maybe crying for help with no hope for it coming.</p><p><em>There, </em>a dark splotch against the snow, barely visible – not like the rocks that littered the landscape, no, far from it. Frantic, Bilbo landed, blabbering, “Sigrid, Sigrid, is that you – hello?” He nudged the thing with his muzzle, then shuffled aside the snow – but already he knew something was wrong.</p><p>The corpse of a black wolf was revealed, and Bilbo sunk back. The blood made it clear it had been killed, and recently. He threw his head from side to side, desperate for anything even remotely man-shaped. “Sigrid!” he yelled, and took off running in a random direction. “Sigrid! Can you hear me?”</p><p>Dragons had not been made to traverse snow, though cold-drakes were better equipped for it than fire-drakes. Still, Bilbo’s claws scrabbled in the cold, sliding and slipping and never finding purchase. His voice did not reach far, he was sure – the wind was too loud, and the snow too thick.</p><p>Still, he couldn’t help but try. “<em>Sigrid!</em>” he yelled again. No, he wasn’t having any luck here – not like this, panicked and flailing. He tensed, attempting to take off – he’d scourge the area from above once more – but got caught on something, gave a squeak, and tumbled through the snow.</p><p>Dazed, he lay still for a few moments before pushing upright. Snow slid off his wings and into his face. He barely felt the snow against his scales. “Sigrid!” he called again, shaking his head. “Sig – plea – <em>Sigrid</em>!”</p><p>A whiff reached his nose. A familiar, <em>very </em>familiar scent.</p><p>In a flash, <em>tea Tilda woolen blankets wildberries and mint </em>and –</p><p>“<em>SIGRID</em>!” Bilbo howled.</p><p>He held his breath, staring blankly into the storm as he listened, listened… but nothing. Despair ripped into his heart.</p><p>What would he do? He couldn’t go back into the mountain and say ‘sorry, I lost her’ –</p><p>A faint buzz.</p><p>Bilbo tensed. Listened. Every cell in his body ready, the wailing wind background noise, <em>listening –</em></p><p>Distantly and muted, a girl’s voice.</p><p><em>Oh</em>, thought Bilbo, and exhaled with every part of himself, his blood ringing with, <em>she’s alive, she’s alive, she’s alive!</em></p><p>“Sigrid,” he breathed, and shot forward, kicking snow, not noticing, not caring – “Sigrid!”</p><p>Following her weak voice and trembling in every limb as he went, Bilbo stumbled, stumbled again, flapped uselessly with his wings – and there, there she was, curled up against a rock in a spot of hardpacked snow, nearly as white as the ice. Her bright hair was speckled with snowflakes, and tears had frozen on her cheeks and in her eyes.</p><p>She was barely aware, gaze distant. Her hands, pulling her cloak closed, were cracked and bleeding.</p><p>“Oh, Sigrid,” Bilbo breathed, “oh, lovely, darling, no –”</p><p>Slowly – sluggishly – Sigrid’s eyes moved to fasten on him. “Y – y – Your Gent –”</p><p>Bilbo crawled closer. “Yes, yes, shh, yes, it’s me, come on, I’ll get you home.” Summoning the last specks of his own heat, he mumbled, “close your eyes,” and breathed gentle – but <em>warm </em>– mist against her freezing skin.</p><p>Without waiting for her to speak, he shifted and picked her up in his hind claws. Carefully he took off – as carefully as he could in the storm – and tucked his feet as close to his belly as he could.</p><p>“Hold on, love,” he murmured, aiming for where the mountain should yet stand. “Hold on.”</p><p>*</p><p>Bilbo crashed through the open gates – why on Earth were they open – and tumbled to the hard stone floor, gasping after breath with the yelling of frantic dwarrow filling his ears. They were nothing but blurred shapes and forms, dark against the lit halls of Erebor, crowding and calling.</p><p>They must be looking for Sigrid. He uncurled his body, releasing her from his grasp and gently pushing her forward.</p><p>Through a haze, “Bilbo!”</p><p>Thorin.</p><p>He was so cold. Thorin had never been cold.</p><p>Thorin.</p><p>Whining softly, Bilbo forced his eyes open and looked about for that familiar shape, that familiar scent, that familiar voice.</p><p>And there he was, pushing through the crowd and smelling of fear. “Thorin,” Bilbo mumbled. Thorin put a hand to his muzzle, and his touch burned.</p><p>With Thorin’s rumbling voice soft in his ears, Bilbo’s world faded into nothing.</p><p>*</p><p>He floated for a while, unthinking and distant.</p><p>He woke to warmth and heat, clear and sharp and close. It was easy to doze for a while, not minding nor caring what was going on about him. When he at last regained clarity, he realized where he was: the forges.</p><p>He sat up clumsily. It’d been a while since he woke in dragon form. He was in plain view of the place, close enough to two boilers to be warm, but not warm <em>enough</em>. There were dwarrow walking about some distance away, though most of them seemed to keep their distance from Bilbo and the scorching heat.</p><p>A bit disgruntled, he tried to squirm closer to the closest boiler. Absently he wondered how he’d gotten there – had they carried him? But he was <em>huge…</em></p><p>His movement alerted some of the nearby dwarrow. One of them, a dwarf it seemed, came running over. “Your Gentleness!” he exclaimed, bowing low. “Sorry, but the King ain’t here at the moment – I’ll send some word te him, he’s been right anxious, but he had te run to a meetin’ – wait a bit and he’ll come right along!”</p><p>Bilbo barely had time to express his gratitude before the dwarf ran off. Tired – and still cold, he could tell it would take more for his core to reheat – he lay back down. First now did he notice the massive heaps of cloth he was resting on. It was a poor nest, more like a heap, really, but the gesture of it warmed his heart more than the forges ever could.</p><p>He dozed off again, unsure about how long – and then Thorin was there, and Dis and Oin and Bard.</p><p>“Bilbo!” Thorin exclaimed, nearly tripping in his feet as he hastened closer. He didn’t get very close before he hesitated, nearly hovering. “Are you – are you alright?”</p><p>“Sigrid,” said Bilbo, suddenly remembering, “is she fine?”</p><p>Oin cleared his throat. “She’s right and well, aye. Wouldn’t ‘ave been for much longer if you didn’t find her, though.” He pointedly crossed the space Thorin feared and put a hand to Bilbo’s scales. “Well done, laddie.”</p><p>Bilbo sought out Bard’s gaze, looking for what the father of the child in question thought. When he received a nod and trembling smile, he relaxed. “I’m fine,” he said. “Still slightly cold, though it won’t last long, I’m sure.”</p><p>“<em>Still</em>?” asked Thorin, and now he did step closer, though he still dared not touch. “It has been two days… you’ve barely moved?”</p><p>Bilbo opened his mouth, then closed it again. How could he ever begin to explain why he was like he was – that he was the youngest, the smallest, the weakest? That his survival had never been through means of his own?</p><p>“Sigrid isn’t the only one who wouldn’t have been well for much longer,” he simply said, and closed his eyes. “Oin, do you have the potion Tal Al on you?”</p><p>“I’ll fetch it,” said Oin simply, and went off as fast as he could.</p><p>At last, Thorin took the last step forward and leaned his whole body into Bilbo’s neck. “I was worried,” he mumbled, and Bilbo shuddered.</p><p>“I’m alright now,” he muttered, though he was grateful for his worry, nonetheless. “I’m alright. Bard – how is she?”</p><p>Bard stepped into his field of view, giving a small bow. “She’s been awake only once, and she asked for you. She’s going to be alright in time – some of the elven healers are looking to her, now.”</p><p>“Oin is throwing a fit over it,” Thorin said, muffled by Bilbo’s feathers. “Says she needs to be looked at by a proper dwarven healer as well.”</p><p>Bilbo chuckled. “Of course he does.”</p><p>When Oin returned with a vial of the golden liquid, Bilbo didn’t hesitate. The glass was pressed into his grasping hands, and soon the pain bled away to nothing.</p><p>Thorin wrapped Bilbo into a tight hug the moment he could.</p><p>And Bilbo, exhausted from nearly dying, being drained, and transforming, said, “please take me home.”</p><p>*</p><p>(He lay curled against Thorin’s chest before the fire many hours that day, dozing off while Thorin gently braided his hair.)</p><p>*</p><p>Bilbo at last received a letter from the Thain two weeks later. He went to Thorin with the good news that they would be welcome in the Shire at any time, and he would hear around with the various hobbit families if anyone would be interested in coming along to Erebor.</p><p>Extensive planning regarding the trip begun – lists, equipment, and so on.</p><p>Sigrid healed well, and soon she was back on her feet. She made Bilbo a gift – a basket with various homebaked goods – and an official note of gratitude, which Bilbo accepted, but with a smile. Only a week later Bilbo received a promise of a later gift from Bard, along with an apology that he could not offer anything of importance at the time. That was much harder to accept, but with Thorin nudging him forward, Bilbo didn’t have much choice.</p><p>Time passed. A return letter was sent to the Thain informing him of their plans. The yarnwork group was decided to keep on going after the bloom of spring, though Bilbo unfortunately would not be able to participate often due to his duties.</p><p>The egg still had not hatched.</p><p>And at last, early in the year, the snow began to melt.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And that's it for the scrapped or removed parts!! There might be some additions to the story later - oneshots and such - but they won't be posted in this work. Thanks to everyone for sticking by!! &lt;3</p><p>Check out my tumblr 'louthegreatfurrry' (with 3 r's), I've posted some extra content under the 'through the darkness rise' tag (or tdr progress). :)</p>
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